DISCLAIMER: As much as it breaks my heart to admit it, I do not own anyone or anything connected to Vince McMahon and his awesomeness. I can only claim property rights of OC.
The Mansion is silent as I make my way down the grand staircase. The floor is cool under my feet, causing me to shiver slightly. Pulling the lapels of my robe tighter, I continue on my way downstairs. Glancing around the empty foyer, I let go of a deep breath. Most of my sisters have retired to their private rooms. The last few nights have been exceptionally busy. I do believe word of our little establishment is making the rounds. That's not necessarily a bad thing. We are in the business of pleasure, after all. It would be such a shame to know so many fantasies are being unfulfilled. It's a sign of good things to come that the Mistress has reservations booked indefinitely. We are going to be very busy little bees.
This is my favorite part of the night. Our guests have taken their leave and the Mansion is utterly still. No one even realizes I'm still awake. That's just the way I like it. Every girl needs a little time to herself. Truth be told, I'm not as brave as my sisters. Some of them are absolutely fearless. They have that indescribable something that makes the men flock to them. They're actually quite stunning. In a way, they remind me of butterflies. They stay only as long as they care to. One moment they're here and then next they have moved on to greener pastures. Although I can't imagine a place more perfect than our beloved Mansion. I most certainly can't imagine myself anywhere else. This is exactly where I belong.
Crossing the cold, marble foyer I take a right and walk down a short hallway. The door at the end beacons me. It's my favorite room in the entire mansion. Gently I grip the brass door knob. The metal is cool under my fingers as I slowly open the door. The instant the door cracks open, the scent of warm leather and books fill my lungs. The library looks like something out of a movie. Three walls are covered from floor to ceiling in books. The fourth wall is made entirely of glass and looks out over the still waters of our private lake. The night sky is inky black and dotted with stars. Clouds move across the moon, temporarily blocking out its silvery light. With a small smile I step fully into the room. It's a haven for me, a place where I can truly be myself. I have to confess, I'm not exactly the most popular girl in the Mansion. I'm actually quite shy. I have a quiet nature that is sometimes overlooked. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to. I've had more than a few suitors request to spend the night with me. There are quite a few men that have the naughty librarian fantasy. And I'm more than happy to fulfill it.
A fire is carefully banked, its warmth seeps into me, keeping the chill at bay. The green and gold oriental rug muffle my footsteps as I move across the room. A log snaps behind the iron grate and startles me. A soft sound escapes me as I watch the fire dance across the unburned wood. After a long moment, I turn back toward the shelves. That's when I realize I'm not alone. Surprised, I stay rooted in place. This room is hardly ever used. As far as I know, other than the Mistress and Laurent, I'm the only one that ventures into this part of the Mansion. My surprise increases as I look at the set of matched wing back chairs. The man sitting there is absolutely enormous. I'm shocked that the chair is able to support his weight. He looks just as surprised to see me as I am him. His gaze moves over me, making me realize the thin, pink robe hides very little.
"I didn't know anyone was here."
"I'm sorry I startled you." His voice was incredibly deep and pitched low. The sound of it reminded me of a lion's soft purr.
"I thought everyone had left."
He smiles slightly, just a quick tugging at the corner of his lips. "I arrived a little while ago."
Glancing at the clock sitting on the mantle piece, I see the time is just after 4 A.M. Dawn is but a short time away. His time here will be rather short. He'll have to make the most of it.
"I came to get a book." I wince slightly as the words leave my lips. Why else would I be standing in this room, surrounded by literally thousands of books?
He nods and forces his gaze away from mine. It's his way of allowing me a few moments of privacy while I retrieve what I came for. I study him for a moment. He's so different from the men I'm accustomed to seeing here. He's incredibly tall and his shoulders are nearly as wide as the doorway. His head is shaved baby smooth. My gaze moves lower, noticing how the burgundy button-down shirt only emphasizes his size. It's hard to ignore the feminine part of me that thinks he's oddly attractive. Forcing my gaze away, I turn to the bookshelf and grab a red tome without looking. I can't resist the urge to look at him once more. As if he senses me looking at him, he looks up. His eyes are green and shrewdly intelligent.
"Do you play?" His head tilts slightly as he studies me.
I can only imagine how terrible I look with my hair hanging in loose waves down my back and no make-up.
Blinking hard, I look at him. "Pardon?"
He makes a small motion with his hand, indicating the chess board set up on a low table. "Do you play?"
A soft laugh escapes me as I realize he's trying to be nice. As sigh of relief escapes me, "I'm not very good."
"Would you mind?" He nods at the board as he looks up at me.
Indecision makes me hesitate. Part of me wants to refuse him and make a hasty retreat to my quarters. But the bigger part of me is intrigued.
"Not at all." Smiling slightly I move to stand beside the empty chair. Surprisingly, he stands as I approach. He waits until I make myself comfortable before taking his seat. Even though we're separated by a few feet, I'm intensely aware of him. It's more than just his impressive size. There's something about him that I just can't put my finger on.
"I'm Glen." He reaches out, offering his hand in greeting.
For a long moment I simply stare at his outstretched hand. My hand trembles as I reach out to place my small hand in his much larger one. His warm fingers wrap around mine. He's incredibly gentle.
"I'm Rachel."
He smiles, flashing a set of deeply cut dimples. "My pleasure."
His voice is smooth as velvet and as rich as chocolate. A shiver moves over me and it has very little to do with the temperature in the room.
"Would you like to go first?"
It takes a moment for me to realize he's asking me to make the first move. Without taking time to look at the board, I move a pawn forward. He quickly moves a pawn then leans back in his chair. He quietly studies me as I stare at the board. A silent eternity passes as I try to figure out what, exactly, is happening.
"Are you waiting for Laurent to bring someone?" my voice is almost lost in the stillness of the room.
He shakes his head slowly as he studies me. "No."
My sigh of relief is rather obvious. I'm not sure why but the thought of him waiting for one of my sisters makes me uneasy. I wouldn't exactly say I'm jealous but I don't like the idea of sharing him. At least not until I figure out, what exactly, intrigues me so.
"I'm sorry if I make you nervous." The fact that he is picking up on my apprehension isn't a surprise. He's incredibly aware of everything around him.
"I'm not nervous in the least." I smile at him as I move another pawn on the board.
Leaning forward in his chair, he studies me with those intense eyes. "Perhaps we should get to know each other."
It's hard to suppress the smile of relief tugging at my lips. "That would be nice."
He picks up a glass of cognac and gently rolls it between his huge hands. After a full minute of this, he lifts the glass and takes a small sip. He sighs in satisfaction as he watches me. His eyes move over me. He's careful not to let his eyes linger in one place for more than a few seconds. What I wouldn't give to know what he's thinking right now. As I smooth my hands along the robe's slightly parted seam, his eyes lock on the subtle movement. If I hadn't been watching him so closely, I would have missed the flash of desire in his eyes.
"So tell me about yourself." he prompts.
"What would you like to know?"
"Everything." He laughs softly and glanced down at his now empty glass. He stands then crosses the room for a refill. Instinct is telling me he needs a moment to collect himself. It's almost too much to hope that he's overwhelmed by desire for me. Truth be told, he strikes me as a man that keeps his emotions to himself. But the flash of desire I saw in his eyes makes me want to see him throw his carefully maintained control to the wind.
Without asking, he picks up another empty glass and pours a small amount of Cognac. He comes to stand beside me and offers it without a word. Murmuring a soft thank you, I take the glass. My fingers brush lightly over his. The contact is light but electric. I feel the tingle move all the way up my arm.
"There's not much to tell."
"I'm sure there must be something." Glenn smiles as he turns his back to me. He's pretending to look at the endless rows of books lining the shelves.
I shake my head even though he's not looking at me.
He turns slightly to face me. The light from the fire dances over his face, making the sharp angles even more apparent. Most women would immediately dismiss him because he's far from the modern definition of sexual desirability. He's much too angular, too bulky to meet today's standards. He reminds me of the warriors of years gone by. He's strong and capable, his body honed for battle. Stealing a quick glance at him, I feel a flicker of appreciation dance along my spine.
"What book did you pick?"
Unsure, I swallow hard and pick up the book I'd snatched off the shelf. As I glance at the cover, I feel a blush steal over me. Of all the books in the library, I had to pick this one; The Lost Diary of Don Juan. Only I could have picked a book detailing the conquests of the most legendary lover in literary history. I feel the blush expanding as I place the book in my lap. I can't make myself meet his knowing his gaze.
"Very good selection. I quite enjoyed it." I can hear the smile creeping into his voice.
I should have realized that such an intelligent man would be well read. How silly of me to think otherwise.
"Would you mind reading a page or two?"
Surprised, I look at him. His knowing eyes move over me, making me feel exposed once again. Hesitantly I open the book to the first page and begin to read. At first my voice is hesitant as the words fall from my lips. He crosses the room to stand behind me. He leans forward as if reading over my shoulder.
"Many, I am sure, will try to turn my life into a morality play after I am dead, but no man's life is so easily understood or dismissed."
"What do you think of that, Rachel? Do you think our time in the Mansion is so easily understood or dismissed?" his voice is low and soft as he trails his fingertips down the side of my throat. His touch is incredibly gentle, just the merest caress.
I don't know what to say. I've never allowed myself to think about outsiders and what their opinions might be. For so long I have known nothing else, no other life, but this. I close the book and set it on the corner of the chessboard. Rising from my chair, I turn to face him.
"In truth, I've never cared what others might think."
He smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. He takes a step toward me. If I had an ounce of sense, I would be frightened. He's at least twice my size and infinitely stronger. I should fear for my life. And yet, I find that I'm not afraid in the least. More than anything I am intrigued by his calm, gentle ways.
"You do not care that others might think less of you?" He reaches out to touch me again. He brushes the back of his knuckles across my cheek. I turn my head slightly and press my lips against his skin.
"I care only that we make the most of the time we're given." the words surprise me. Perhaps I am being more bold than ever. Maybe it is the fact that I know he does not judge me. He does not think less of me. In his eyes, we are equals.
"Is that so, Rachel?" He moves closer to me. I can feel the warmth of his body seeping into me.
I answer him the only way I know how. My fingers make quick work of untying the knot in my sash. With a deft movement, I shrug the silky robe from my shoulders. Instantly the chill of the room wraps around me. Shivering, I force myself to meet his gaze. The passionate heat in his gaze chases away the chill. His green eyes move slowly over me, taking in even the smallest detail. He sucks in a deep breath as his eyes meet mine.
My fingers drift between us and make quick work of unbuttoning his shirt. He makes no move to stop me. He stands absolutely still as I stand on tiptoes and push the garment from his broad shoulders. Trailing my fingers down his sculpted pecs, I marvel at how soft and warm his skin is. He watches as my hands unbuckle his belt. I think he likes the fact that I'm taking control. As I reach for the buttons of his slacks, his hand wraps around mine. He looks down at me and shakes his head. He takes me by the hand and leads me over to the love seat. He quickly unfastens his slacks and slides the zipper down. Then he reaches for me, pulling me down to straddle his lap.
His strong arm wraps around my waist as he pulls me against him. The feel of his silky skin sliding against mine is electric. Carefully his fingers drift along my spine and finally over the curve of my ass. Goosebumps rise in his wake. He makes a soft sound of approval as his hands trail up my spine. Restlessly, I move against him. He's barely touching me but already I feel as if I'm on fire. My skin is too tight to contain the growing need. I arch against him, wanting to feel more. He knows exactly what I need. His strong fingers trace along the inside of my thigh, higher to place where I crave his touch the most.
The first flutter of his fingertips over my swollen flesh is nearly unbearable. He touches me slowly, gently, almost reverently. He explores my moist, delicate heat, gently parting my folds. With a whisper of warning he presses against me, his thick finger sliding deeper and deeper. The gentle pressure is unbearable. Unlike some lovers, he knows exactly how deep to push before retreating. His exploration continues, giving me incredible pleasure before withdrawing. His slow, easy movements will surely drive me insane. Whimpering softly, I reach for him drawing him close for a kiss. He resists for just a moment before allowing me dip inside and taste him. The flavor of cognac is no match for his deep, earthy flavor. It's instantly addictive and I want more. His palm cups the back of my head, holding me in place as returns my kiss.
Panting and breathless, he pulls away from me. He shifts slightly and his hand slides between us. With a small movement, he frees his aching length. We moan in unison as his broad tip presses against me. His hips arch and he moves deeper. God, the feel of him is exquisite. I feel so full, more complete than I ever have. As he thrusts gently, I whimper. The incredible slide of his flesh against mine is too much. I want to beg for more but he knows what I need before I do.
He pulls back, almost completely withdrawing before pushing deep again. He sets a pace that brings us both so much pleasure. His nimble fingers trace over my sensitive pearl. I shudder against him as he continues to stroke me in rhythm with his thrusting. He's so focused on me, completely in tune with my body. He knows exactly how to move to bring me even closer to the edge. Never have I wanted to find release this badly. His lips caress my cheek, kissing me gently before tugging on my ear lobe. He whispers to me, encouraging me to find my pleasure. The friction created by his careful movements is more than enough to send me over the edge into oblivion. My body quakes with pleasure, stars explode behind my tightly closed eyes. For a moment I enter heaven, a sweet darkness where nothing exists except this incredible man bringing me such pleasure. I collapse weakly against him as he thrusts hard one last time. His orgasm crashes over him as empties into my silky depths. My name falls from his lips over and over again. He hugs me tightly, murmuring sweetly as he struggles to calm his pounding heart.
I'm not entirely sure how much time passes as he holds me. At this point, time no longer seems important. We are satisfied beyond measure and unwilling to go our separate ways. He is still every ounce the gentleman as he lovingly helps me don my robe. With a lingering kiss, he bids me goodnight and slips out of the library. I turn to the window to watch him leave. The first streaks of dawn paint the sky. The thought strikes me that I never found out who, exactly, he was waiting to meet. But I do know one thing for certain, the mysterious man known to the world as Kane, is intellectually and passionately amazing.
***A/N – Please review***